


Taste

by sori



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sori/pseuds/sori





	Taste

## Taste

#### by Sori

  
The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc.  
Written for the second Sentinel Secrets Challenge on LJ: get Jim and Blair away from Cascade.  
Many thanks to Mel for the wonderful beta.  
  


* * *

Blair could still taste the slightly bitter tang of come in his mouth. It was an odd taste, nothing like the sweetly flavored and slightly exotic taste of a woman. Instead this was earthy and pungent, and he realized that the flavor reminded him, for some strange reason, of moss. 

Thoughts of moss led to thoughts of camping. And as most things did lately, this last thought reminded him of Jim - a naked, scruffy Jim to whom the dirt and grime of the outdoors would not dare cling. 

Of course, he must still be in some kind of post-really-fucking-amazing-orgasmic haze, because his mind had just taken him on some bizarre journey that went from come to moss to camping. To Jim. Blair realized that maybe that journey wasn't so bizarre. After all, it was Jim's come he tasted. 

Blair stretched his neck, slowly working the kinks out of his sore muscles. He could feel Jim's head pressing firmly into his armpit - snuffling in a sleepy, but kind of cute way that in four years of sharing an apartment Blair had never noticed. Jim's arm was lying across his chest, the heavy weight oddly comforting. For a moment Blair thought of all the times he had touched Jim - on the arm, on the back - small touches that grounded Jim when he was off flying in his twisted sense-enhanced awareness. 

Blair shifted, squirming around until his legs were firmly intertwined with Jim's. Jim snorted, pressing his nose farther into Blair's armpit before inhaling deeply and drifting back to sleep with a satisfied sigh. 

Blair couldn't figure out exactly how this had happened. They had arrived in Missoula, Montana two days ago to interview a potential witness in a suspected mob-related homicide. It wasn't something they normally did - interviewing an out-of-town witness - but both Jim and Simon had seemed to think it was important enough to warrant a couple of round trip airline tickets, and two nights in a run-down motel. 

Of course, Blair, being the rookie detective, didn't get much of a voice in the matter. He'd told Jim and Simon to let the local PD handle the interview, but Jim had been determined to head to Missoula to interview this particular witness, and Blair just had to come along. Whatever, Blair had figured, and packed his bag, grabbed an extra clip for his 9mm and decided, if he had to go to Montana in the fricking winter, he'd at least take advantage of the fact and bitch to his partner. 

The witness had been a waste. He hadn't seen anything, hadn't known anything and hadn't really wanted to be talking to the cops. He'd flung a few sarcastic remarks in their direction before pointing out that the door wasn't likely to hit them in the ass if they exited his office quickly enough. 

Blair had been a good partner and refrained from regaling Jim with the `I told you so' spiel. Instead, he'd commented on: the cold, the bad airline food, the invigorating freshness of the surrounding area when it was covered in 3 feet of snow. It wasn't until they had been sitting in a small mom-and-pop diner, eating the best meat loaf ever, that Blair had actually said the fateful words, "I told you so." Of course, Blair had managed to slip that casually into the conversation by asking Jim to pass the ketchup and, "oh, by the way Jim, remember when I said this was going to be a wasted trip...." 

It hadn't been too long after that the witness had shown up at the diner to meet with a man who just happened to look a great deal like the supposed victim of the homicide. Though Blair might be a rookie cop, he was an expert at putting things together, and it had taken him less than a second to realize that maybe he shouldn't have reminded Jim of his objections to their trip. Apparently, Jim's Montana hunch hadn't been such a bust after all. 

Later, Blair had cornered Jim in an empty interrogation room at the Missoula PD and started in on the questions. Maybe Jim had used his senses in some new way, because there was no reason for Jim to have thought that the suspected victim of a mob hit was actually alive and well and living in Montana. Jim had just handed him a cup of coffee, mixed exactly as Blair always drank it - light with two packets of sweetener. He had looked at Blair with an odd expression before slowly lifting his hand and lightly twirling Blair's hoop earring between his finger and thumb. "Sandburg, sometimes you just have to play out a hunch." 

"Huh?" Blair knew he had sounded less than intelligent, but Jim's fingers seemingly caressing his ear had short circuited his higher mental functions. 

"The undiscovered paths, the road less traveled and all. Kerouac, Sandburg. Think Kerouac." Jim had then smiled a never-before-seen secret smile. 

Blair had almost been able to see the undercurrents of their conversation floating around the interrogation room. When he had tried to focus on them, figure out their meaning and their purpose, they had just wisped away like ghosts. Illusions of the mind. 

Blair's dick had twitched in unexpected anticipation and he'd realized that he really wanted to know the secret that had put that particular smile on Jim's face. 

That night, Jim and Blair had been sitting in their room watching the Jags get their asses kicked by the Pistons. There had been a mostly empty pizza box on the nightstand between the two queen size beds; the smell of pizza grease and pepperoni had hung in the air competing with the cigarette stench trapped in the curtains. 

Jim had been staring at the television, glaring at the bungling Jag players as if his glare alone could travel through the air waves and kick their asses. Blair had just stared at Jim. That twitching dick affliction had returned, and every time Jim grunted at a missed shot, Blair's cock had hardened a bit more. He had considered Jim in his sleeveless undershirt - the kind Jim habitually wore because the cotton ridges were just the right texture for his skin. 

Somewhere between Blair noticing Jim's white undershirt, and Blair thinking that Jim's white socks were actually a bit sexy in a not-to-be-questioned way, Blair had found himself sitting on Jim's bed. He had smiled when Jim asked, "Sandburg?" 

"You touched my earring." Even though Blair still couldn't figure out quite what he had meant by that statement, he had trusted that Jim would somehow decipher the meaning. Jim had just looked him, eyebrow raised and nose wrinkled, and perhaps wondering if Blair could have passed a drug test at that moment. 

"And?" Jim had lifted his arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose, causing an interesting amount of muscle to shift and stretch and exposing what Blair would later decide was his rather kinky addiction to Jim's arm hair. 

Blair had lunged. It hadn't been graceful and it hadn't been suave, and for once he hadn't figured that words were necessary. Jim had rippling muscles and he was a path undiscovered that Blair had been traveling beside for several years and two careers. Blair's mouth had been able to reach Jim's lips, and taking advantage of that fact had been the most brilliant idea Blair had in years. Maybe ever. Although Blair had never kissed a man, lips were lips and tongues were tongues, and with Jim it hadn't mattered because the kiss was so damn amazing that Blair had pushed Jim back on the bed and kissed him some more. 

He had let his arms roam and his hands play. He had discovered that Jim's hair was soft and his late-evening beard scratchy, and that when Blair moved his hips Jim's cock rubbed Blair in exactly the right spot. 

About that time, Blair had realized that Jim's cock was not only hard, but that Jim was kissing him back with a gratifying level of excitement. He had discovered that clothes could be removed and that a sexy male chest with tight nipples and corded muscles was even more fun than the soft breasts of a woman. 

Blair was a little hazy on the events that had followed, but he seemed to recall Jim holding his hands down on the bed and doing wickedly adept things with his tongue and teeth. It had involved lots of sucking and more than a little bit of biting, and it certainly had involved a great deal of moaning and thrashing. At some point it had involved Blair's mouth on Jim's dick - an idea that should have freaked him out but didn't. 

Now Jim was lying next to Blair, hours after the most mind-blowingly-good sex Blair had ever experienced, still come splattered and sound asleep. Jim's nose was pressed into Blair's armpit; a place Blair knew smelled anything but rose-like. Still, Jim was sniffing and burrowing in, and judging by the satisfyingly dopey expression on his face, he seemed to like whatever scent Blair was reeking of. 

Apparently, an enhanced sense of smell did not preclude the enjoyment of slightly nasty sex smells. 

Jim shifted, and said, "Sandburg, would you think a little quieter, here?" Jim's voice was rough and he growled the words more than murmured them. Blair gasped as Jim pressed a kiss to his chest before he took a deep breath and looked up at Blair. 

"Fuck you, man." Blair reached over and scratched Jim's head. He pulled his hand away only after giving Jim's ear a quick flick with his finger. 

"You going to freak out about this, Sandburg?" 

"So not freaking out here, man." Jim snorted and Blair shook his head before adding, "Okay. Maybe I'm freaking a little. But seriously, Jim, why aren't you freaking? I never would have guessed that...," Blair hoped that Jim could figure out the question behind the comment; he certainly didn't want to elaborate. 

"...that I had a closet where I stored all my gay sex fantasies? Please." Jim's hand rubbed restlessly over Blair's chest, pulling and tugging at the hair near his nipples. Blair could feel the goose bumps rising on his skin, and when it looked like Jim had finished talking, he grabbed Jim's hand. "It was just time." 

"It was just time? That's it?" 

"You're complaining? Funny, I don't recall you bitching when I had my hand on your dick." Despite the gruffness, Jim was smiling as he spoke, so Blair wiggled a little, just enough to surprise a small gasp from Jim. 

"Yeah, well, it was a good hand. And it felt pretty fantastic on my dick." Blair leaned up and smacked his hand across Jim's butt. "So we're not going to talk about this?" 

"Knock yourself out, Sandburg. I'll just be busy doing other things," Jim said as he pulled himself up until he was lying across Blair's chest. He threaded the fingers of one hand through Blair's hair and tugged softly, exposing Blair's neck to his teeth and mouth. 

Blair tried to focus long enough to figure out what to say. With Jim's lips doing wickedly strange things to his neck it was a bit difficult. Then again, Jim was never one to make things easy. But when Blair thought about it, this really wasn't so difficult. It was Jim in Blair's arms; Jim's come in Blair's mouth; Jim's name on Blair's lips. 

"Blair?" Jim phrased it as a question, but Blair took it for the promise that it was. Jim's voice had forever in its tone. Suddenly, the right words weren't so hard to find. 

"Jim? I thought you were busy doing other things." Blair decided that he'd take a lesson from the Ellison book of getting things done - instead of talking, he'd start doing. He'd let his tongue and his lips, his hands and his dick, say all the things he wasn't quite ready to say out loud. 

As he leaned up to kiss Jim, Blair briefly wondered if Jim's come would still taste like moss the second time around. He couldn't wait to find out, but first he had a whole body to explore. 

After all, some tastes were meant to be savored. 

* * *

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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